


In motion

by Yellowwolf



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowwolf/pseuds/Yellowwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, out of everyone on the plane, Jesse has to be seated next to the person who has his book. If this is the universe’s way of a cosmic joke, then Jesse isn’t finding it very funny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In motion

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta** ; The wonderful [](http://des-pudels-kern.livejournal.com/profile)[ **des_pudels_kern**](http://des-pudels-kern.livejournal.com/).  
>  For [](http://salvadore-hart.livejournal.com/profile)[ **salvadore_hart**](http://salvadore-hart.livejournal.com/) , One of the prompts was "inadvertently sitting next to each other on the plane." I ran with it.   
> 

Jesse doesn’t like travelling by plane. There’s something frightening and disconcerting about being cooped up in a metal cage with too many other people and very little means of escape. Jesse has, of course, come prepared and has taken something for his anxiety. It’s dulled the edge but he’s still feeling anxious enough for his breathing to be a little quicker than normal, heart pounding against his ribcage. 

They haven’t even taken off yet.

“Sorry, that’s my seat,” a British voice says brightly from above him. 

“Right, yeah.” 

“Oh, no, don’t get up! I can – Wait.” The man starts half-climbing over him to get through the narrow space between his legs and the row in front to get to the middle seat. Jesse briefly finds himself at eye-level with a butt clothed in tight black jeans before the Brit flops down in the seat next to him. Jesse’s thankful the person who has the window seat is already seated.

The plane fills up further and before he knows it, the stewardess’s voice is coming through the intercom, announcing the doors are being shut and taking them through the safety procedures. Jesse listens intently, despite having heard it all before, while most people in his vicinity are talking to their neighbors or leafing their books and magazines. 

“Do you want some chewing gum?” the man next to him offers. Jesse startles, surprised the stranger is talking to him. “It helps with the pressure in your ears.”

“Ah, no, thank  you. Uh, doesn’t really work for me. Yawning does,” Jesse says, eying the package a little dubiously. His mom has always taught him not to take candy from strangers. Granted, he’s now a twenty- four year old adult, perfectly capable of assessing a situation and determining whether or not it’s safe. It seems perfectly safe now. The man’s eyes are earnest and wide, a warm deep brown that’s nice to look at. He’s wearing a simple red and black checkered shirt. He has poofy hair that vaguely reminds Jesse of a lion’s mane. Despite that, he looks perfectly harmless.  

Then they’re suddenly gaining speed. Jesse grips the seat handle on the left a bit tighter and clenches his other fist, resting his head against the backrest and fighting the urge to close his eyes. He’s an adult, he tells himself. He’s fine. He feels the exact moment the plane start leaving the ground, getting pushed back into his chair just a little bit. Then they’re clear and rising, the pressure in his ears growing. It’s not at uncomfortable levels yet so he holds off on yawning. 

“Are you okay? You look a little pale,” the man next to him pipes up a couple of minutes into the take off, sounding unreasonably worried given the fact they don’t know each other. 

Jesse briefly contemplates telling him to shut up and focus on keep his breathing nice and steady, but he’s not a rude person.

“I don’t like flying,” he offers. 

“Ah yes. Didn’t you bring anything to distract yourself? I’m Andrew, by the way.”

“Jesse,” he replies absently, while mentally kicking himself for leaving his book in his backpack. He won’t be able to get up to pull it out of the overhead luggage compartment until they’re at the required height which probably won’t be for another ten minutes. He should have realized he’d forgotten something. “It’s in my backpack.”

Jesse makes a conscious effort at releasing his grip before his fingers start cramping up.

“You can borrow my book, if you want. I don’t mind flying.”

Andrew holds up the book previously in his lap. Jesse does a double take, because – _shit._ He recognizes that book, knows it very well, in fact. _Asuncion_ , the cover declares, _J.A. Eisenberg,_ it says above. Of course. Of course, out of everyone on the plane, he has to be seated next to the person who has his book. If this is the universe’s way of a cosmic joke, then Jesse isn’t finding it very funny. He swallows down hysteric giggles, incredibly glad he vetoed putting his picture on the back cover or anywhere else on the book.  

“No. Nope, that’s alright. I can manage… Thank you,” he adds as an afterthought because it is a nice gesture to offer him the book, even though Jesse would rather not see the thing ever again.

That’s going to be problematic, he realizes, what with the book signing he’ll be doing in Los Angeles. His very first, after two books that had made the New York times bestselling list. It’s beyond his understanding but he has fans now and as his publicist explained, that means making public appearances. 

“Have you read this book?” Andrew asks. “Oh, sorry, you don’t mind me talking to you, do you? I can be chatty.” He adds, eyebrows scrunched together in a frown.

Jesse smiles a little. “It’s fine.” It’s distracting. 

“Did you like it? I haven’t read it yet but I read his first book and that one was great, so I’m quite looking forward to getting started,” Andrew says, with a fond little smile at the cover. 

Jesse runs through possible replies in his head. _Don’t let me keep you from it then._ Potentially rude. _I find it dreadful and badly written._ Big no-no, according to his publicist. _It’s great!_ Blatant lie. 

“It’s not bad,” he settles for. It seems like the most diplomatic answer, given the fact that he still has the urge to buy up all the copies of his books and host a huge bonfire. It would be nice during the cold winter months. He shakes off that thought. He can’t stand thought of burning books, all of that destruction, even when it’s his own work.

Andrew makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and turns the book over to read the summary.

“It’s sounds better than not bad.” 

Jesse resists the urge to list every reason why it’s not a good book. Despite his publisher raving to him that it’s brilliantly written, sharp-witted and confrontationally funny, he still has the feeling it’s not good enough. It will probably never be good enough. It’s something he’ll have to learn to live with.

“What do you like to read then?” Andrew asks.

Jesse shrugs. “Depends on what I’m in the mood for. I like Tolstoy and Dostoyevski.” 

“Right, light reading then,” Andrew says, chuckling a little, looking more awed than confused, which is the usual reaction. People don’t know their classics anymore. “I’ve only read Anna Karenina.”

There’s a ding that signals they can do undo their belts if they want. The cabin seems to explode in a flurry of motion and sounds, click of belts being loosened all around them, people getting up to grab something from the overhead compartment or to go to the toilet, stewardesses starting to make their way down the aisle with trolleys with food and drinks.  

Jesse’s not paying much attention to any of it, roped into conversation with Andrew about their favorite books. Surprisingly, Andrew counts his first book as one of his favorites, gushing about how well written and smart it is. Jesse’s torn between feeling pleased (Andrew does seem to have good tastes in books. Mostly) and covering his ears with his hands to stop himself from hearing the rest of it.

“So, you’re British. What brings you to the United States?” Jesse asks in a sudden moment of panic, because Andrew’s explanation is winding down and he can practically see him get ready to ask if Jesse has read that book. Andrew is too nice to lie to but that doesn’t mean he feels comfortable sharing this particular secret about himself.

Andrew frowns a little at the abrupt change in topic. “I live in New York, actually, have lived there for a good couple of years now. I’m an actor. I’ve done some plays on the West End, been in a movie, but my heart is with theater. I want to be on Broadway one day.” 

“Awesome,” Jesse nods and, glad to have found a safer subject, adds, “why are you headed to LA?”

Andrew smiles ruefully. “Movie audition. I have to make money some way. A friend of mine recommended me to a director, showed him Boy A, my movie. It’s another indie movie. The few pages of the script they sent me seemed lovely.” 

“Good luck.”

Andrew smiles brightly. “Thanks! Why are you going to LA?”

Jesse winces, he should have realized that question was coming. “Visiting some … friends. Yes, friends.” 

If Andrew catches on to his poorly fabricated lie, he doesn’t let on. Jesse makes another abrupt change in topic before Andrew can ask him what he does. He has an answer ready (plays, he writes plays, which is only a small lie, because _Asuncion_ started out as a play), but he’d rather keep the lying to a minimum. It’ll just make him feel guilty because Andrew has been nothing but forthcoming with him. 

Before he knows it, the signal to fasten their belts dings and then they’re starting to descend. Jesse is finding the experience a lot less frightening when he’s got Andrew to talk to about his cats. Most people give him weird looks when he start yapping about the cats he fosters but not Andrew. Andrew listens attentively, asks questions here and there.

He’s possibly the most genuine person Jesse has ever met. Either that, or the best actor, in which case his acting talent is definitely going to waste. 

Jesse finds himself almost disappointed when the plane jolts a little, indicating they’ve reached the tarmac. It takes another couple of minutes before the plane has reached its gate, during which they talk about LA a bit, Andrew sharing a story about surfing in Malibu with his older brother. Jesse decidedly does not picture him in a wetsuit. 

Eventually, they’re allowed to exit the plane, Jesse shouldering his bag and Andrew following close behind.

“Are your friends picking you up, then?” Andrew asks, as they walk towards baggage claim.

“Yeah, yup. What about you?” He inches a bit closer to Andrew, the crowd around him seemingly thickening and rushing past them to get their luggage as quickly as possible. Andrew doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, Jesse isn’t either.

“I’ll be taking a cab. Glamorous life of an unknown actor,” Andrew says, not sounding the least bit upset about that. 

Jesse has to bite his tongue to offer him a ride. He knows he’s being picked up by someone from his publisher’s LA branch, so the chances are, they’ll want to talk schedule. 

As soon as they’ve got their luggage, they head towards the exit. The one thing Jesse has failed to account for (and that he probably should have seen coming had he not been so distracted by Andrew’s person in general) is that they would have his name printed out so he knew who’s picking him up. He sees the paper with _Jesse Eisenberg_ , vaguely recognizes the woman holding it from a conference call two weeks earlier.

Unfortunately, Andrew seems to have spotted it, too, because he nudges him and nods his head at the sign.

“Eisenberg, do you think that person is related to the writer? … Wait. J.A. Eisenberg. _Jesse_ Eisenberg.” 

Andrew stops walking so Jesse does too. He might have been able to deflect if not for the fact that the woman spots him that exact moment and waves him over. Jesse risks a glance at Andrew who’s gaping at him wide-eyed and more than a little surprised. The blush starts creeping up his cheeks before Jesse can squash it down. He fights the urge to look away.

“You never did tell me what it is you do,” Andrew says, not sounding accusing in the slightest. Surprised, yes. A little awed, definitely. But not accusing. Then his eyes go impossibly wider. “Oh, god. Oh my god. You should have told me. You should have not let me talk to you _about your book._ ”    

Jesse laughs a little. “No, you, um, said very nice things. Thank you, by the way.”

“Oh, god.” Andrew groans and covers his face with one hand, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. 

“It’s fine. It’s all fine. I probably should have told you, but people tend to react a certain way and I wanted to avoid that. You know how it is, being an actor. I mean, it wasn’t weird for me hearing you’re an actor because I have actor friends and I don’t watch movies anyway, so it’s not as if I would have recognized you. Not that I doubt your work is good, I’m sure you’re a really great actor, but I don’t care either way. No, that’s not what I --”

Andrew’s laughing by now. “Jesse? Stop. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be doing the babbling here.”

“Oh, no, I’m very good at babbling. Have a talent for it.”

Andrew gives him an absurdly fond smile. “Your _friend_ is getting impatient.” 

“Right, yes, middle of an airport. Do you want a ride to your hotel?” Jesse asks, because the cat is out of the bag anyway.

Andrew considers him for a second, then nods. “Sure, you can tell me why you’re actually in town.”  

“Mister Eisenberg, I’m Rooney Mara,” she says, tone formal and professional. Jesse shakes the offered hand. 

“Call me Jesse, please.”

Rooney nods and glances at Andrew. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were bringing a … _friend_.” One eyebrow rises a little at that.

Jesse finds himself flushing a little, because he can hear the implication in her voice. 

“We met on the plane. Can we make a little detour and drop him off at his hotel?”

“Sure, you have nothing planned for the rest of the day anyway.”

Andrew and Jesse follow her out. Rooney wastes no time in telling him what is expected of him, listing of hours, dates and places for book signings, book readings and interviews. She only pauses for breath when they reach the car, which comes with a driver apparently. Jesse and Andrew get into the backseat while Rooney rides shotgun, continuing her explanation at once.

Jesse throws Andrew a slightly helpless and possibly mortified look. Andrew reaches over and squeezes his hand with a sympathetic smile, mouthing ‘it will be fine’. 

Rooney is done talking eventually. Jesse’s already forgotten most of it but she sounds like she’s got it covered so he doesn’t think he’ll miss anything.

“So, book signings, huh?” Andrew asks. He tries to look innocent, but a mischievous grin is tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jesse groans. “Don’t even dare.”

\--

Andrew shows up at his second book signing on his third day in Los Angeles. Jesse is utterly unsurprised. Despite his best efforts at convincing Andrew queuing up is a massive waste of his time, both in person and through text, Andrew is still standing in front of him with a newly purchased copy of his book, smiling brightly.

“Hi!”

“Ugh,” is Jesse’s eloquent reply, shaking his head down at the book that is slid towards him, a post-it note with Andrew’s name attached to the front. He probably should have mentioned to Katie that if a tall British person with ridiculous hair and a ridiculous smile turned up, that he knew that person and that a post-it was unnecessary. 

“Hey now, that’s no way to greet your number one fan.”  

“You bought a new book,” Jesse states.

“You refused to sign my other one. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.”    

Jesse _had_ refused, but seriously, they’d been out for drinks, not a good time to be signing books. Not that now is a better time. Jesse doesn’t quite understand the fascination with people wanting his autograph. It’s just his name, he’s had it since he was born. 

Katie coughs pointedly in a signal that’s probably meant to tell him they’re holding up the queue. They still have quite a few people to go, they’re already going to run over the assigned time (at Jesse’s insistence. Making sure everyone gets an autograph is the least he can do in return for them turning up and supporting him. He’s paying the over-time.)

Jesse flips open the book, blanking on what to write. He knows Andrew, what is he supposed to write? ‘To Andrew’ is probably a good start. He ends up scribbling in something ridiculous about auditions and deer before handing the book back.

“Are we still on for tomorrow night?” Andrew asks, sounding hopeful.

Jesse frowns. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t we be? I want to hear all about your audition. Good luck!” he adds, with what he hopes is an encouraging smile. 

Andrew salutes him.

Jesse watches him go, jolted out of his thoughts by the next book sliding in front of him. He glances at the post-it.

“Hello, Natasha.” 

\--

“ – it was brilliant! David Fincher, can you believe it?” Conscious of their surroundings, Andrew lowers his voice a little and leans in. “Not an indie movie at all. They’re trying to keep the whole project under wraps. It’s going to be huge, Jess. They really liked my audition. I know I said I prefer theater but… _David Fincher._ I want this project, I want to do this!”

Jesse is nodding along, smiling throughout Andrew’s explanation of the audition. It’s hard to stop smiling, really, Andrew’s enthusiasm is infectious. He keeps gesturing wildly and a smile is permanently fixed on his face.

“What’s next?”

“Well, I’ll be staying in LA for a couple of days longer to read with some other people. Chemistry tests and all. They’ve already cast the lead, but they haven’t said who it is yet.”

“That sounds great, Andrew.”

“Yeah? Even the part about me being around longer?” Andrew asks, glancing at him shyly.

Jesse frowns a little. “Sure, why wouldn’t that be good?”

“Because you’ll have to put up with me for a little longer then. I may even crash your last book signing.” 

“If it is so you can pull the fire alarm, then, yes, please,” Jesse deadpans, not entirely joking. 

Andrew laughs, throws his head back, which is not something the joke warrants. Jesse bites  his lip to stop a fond smile from spreading on his face. He’s only known Andrew for a couple of days, but it feels longer. He’s at ease with him, which is surprising, given the fact it usually takes him some time to warm up to people, but it’s easy with Andrew, natural.

“You’re ridiculous,” Andrew comments, eventually.

Jesse smiles, despite himself. Somehow, Andrew makes that sound like it’s the biggest compliment ever.

\--

It’s not entirely surprising when Jesse ends up with Andrew’s lips attached to his and a hotel room door against his back. It _should_ be surprising, but it’s not. He’s not even freaking out about it. All in all, he’s pretty proud of himself.

“Jess, stop thinking,” Andrew murmurs against his lips.

Well, okay, this would be better if he could get his brain to stop working long enough to give himself over to the sensation of Andrew’s body pressed against his. He doesn’t do this a lot, so baby steps.

Andrew starts mouthing at his neck and Jesse tilts his head back, because that feels kind of nice. His own hands are drifting aimlessly over Andrew’s arms and shoulders, rubbing over his back. He should really get Andrew’s shirt off, feel the skin come alive under his hands, but that involves stopping Andrew and that’d be a shame.

“Do remember I have an event tomorrow,” Jesse says, already well on his way to breathless and hoarse, which is ridiculous. Jesse can feel Andrew’s grin again his throat. If he wasn’t thinking about hickeys before, he sure is now. He should have kept his mouth shut. (Actually, he doesn’t mind so much.)

Andrew settles for sucking a bruise in the skin between his neck and collarbone, while Jesse’s legs steadily get weaker. He’s thankful that he’s wedged between the door and Andrew’s body.

“Now everyone is going to wonder who gave you that hickey.”

“You overestimate how big my fanbase actually is,” Jesse mutters, distractedly, because Andrew has pulled away and now Jesse can get to work on the buttons on his flannel shirt. (What’s with the flannels, seriously?) He’s having a little trouble coordinating his hands and may actually mutter something about the merits of a plain t-shirt with no buttons whatsoever, but eventually, he gets the offending piece of clothing of. Of course Andrew is wearing an undershirt, but that’s a lot easier to get off. Jesse is thankful.

Andrew has a nice body, tanned and lean, which is in big contrast to Jesse’s own body which is pale and mostly shapeless. His muscle mass is pretty non-existent. It should make him feel self-conscious, it usually does, but it’s hard to care when his blood is rushing south and Andrew is pulling off his shirt as if it’s the most important task in the world that needs to be completed straight away. Jesse figures it’s only fair.

Jesse doesn’t get a lot of time to fully appreciate Andrew’s semi-nudity, because as soon as his own shirt is on the floor, Andrew’s lips are on his again and then they’re moving towards the bed, Andrew mostly manhandling and guiding him while Jesse tries to keep their lips together and not trip on anything.

The moment his back hits the mattress, Andrew sets to work on his jeans, popping the button and pulling down the zipper with a little more force than necessary. Jesse shimmies out of the jeans and gets a little more comfortable on the bed, getting rid of his boxer shorts and socks in the process. They join Andrew’s own discarded jeans. 

Kissing while their skin is touching all over is even more awesome than just kissing, Jesse decides. He gets to let his hands roam now, across Andrew’s back, tracing the muscles and down to his front. Andrew’s hands are doing some wandering off their own, running up and down his sides, rubbing his nipples with his thumb. 

Andrew starts kissing his way down his body, tongue briefly dipping in his belly button before going lower, still. Jesse chokes on a moan when Andrew teasingly licks the tip of his cock. Andrew grins up at him, knowingly and before Jesse can say anything, swallows him down as far as he can.

“Oh, shit,” Jesse mutters, involuntarily and only just manages to stop his hips from bucking up. “You should, you know …” _put on a condom,_ Jesse wants to say, because he’s all for doing these kinds of things safe. Andrew just looks up at him and very deliberately rubs his tongue over the vein on his dick. That’s a no then. Jesse’s not complaining, he’s really not.

When Andrew pulls away, right before Jesse is about to fall over the brink of orgasm, an embarrassingly short amount of time later, Jesse lets out an actual whine because this is just unfair. Andrew smirks and licks his lips, which are all shiny with spit and pre-come. Jesse closes his eyes because he doesn’t actually want to come yet and that image is not doing anything to stop him.

He opens his eyes again when he deems it safe, in time to see him disappear into the bathroom, returning with lube and a condom. 

Andrew straddles his thighs. Before Jesse can ask what the plan is, Andrew has his fingers coated with lube and is reaching behind himself to – Okay, Jesse’s brain short-circuits for a second there. He’d mostly assumed he’d be the one bottoming. Not that he’s not happy about this turn of events.

His hands settle on Andrew’s hips, needing to feel his skin which feel warm, while his eyes are firmly focused on the expression of bliss on Andrew’s face. His face is tilted back just a little, cheeks flushed and teeth worrying his lip, with the occasional moan escaping, eyes screwed shut. Jesse drinks in the sight, storing away the expression.

Jesse’s dick is twitching against his stomach by the time Andrew opens his eyes and smiles down at him, somehow managing to tear open the condom wrapper with slippery fingers and rolling it on. Jesse nearly comes at that.

Then, Andrew is positioning himself. Jesse watches with great interest as Andrew sinks down, slowly at first, then surer when Jesse’s dick pushes past the ring of muscle. This time, he does buck up. Andrew moans in appreciation and then he’s all the way in. It’s pretty much the best feeling ever. Okay, maybe not ever, but the best feeling he’s had in a really long time.

It’s nothing compared to when Andrew starts moving, rolling his hips just right when he pushes down. They settle into a rhythm quickly, Jesse pushing up when Andrew is sinking down. He can tell by Andrew’s moans when he hits the spot so he tries to angle his thrusts the best that he can. 

It’s not all that long before they lose the rhythm completely. They’re both getting too close. Jesse’s stopped being able to think about anything other than the feeling of Andrew’s body, the feel of his lips and his hands when he uses Jesse’s body for leverage, the sound of his moans and soft exclamations of his name, usually said on an exhale. The world’s narrowed down to this moment.

So, of course, it’s over too soon. Andrew’s spurting come all over his stomach, without even needing to be touched. Andrew clenching around him as he rides through his orgams proves to be Jesse’s undoing. His hips jerk up once, twice and then he’s coming, orgasm almost torn out of him. He doesn’t black out but he thinks it’s a close call. His heart is hammering in his chest and his breathing is too fast, Andrew’s weight is a comforting warmth on top of him and he can feel Andrew’s own heart beat against his ribcage.

It takes a minute before Jesse gets his breathing back to normal, more or less. Andrew is nuzzling the bruise he made earlier, hair tickling his cheek.

Jesse absolutely does not groan in complaint when Andrew moves away, although it does present him with the wonderful opportunity let his eyes wander over the naked, sweaty skin that’s now on display for him. He’s actually slightly jealous of Andrew’s ability to be up again, because Jesse is still feeling pretty boneless. He doesn’t think he could get his legs to cooperate even if he wanted to.

When Andrew returns, it’s with a warm washcloth. He takes care of the biggest mess before tugging at the blanket. Jesse figures that means he’s supposed to get under it. He manages to do that much. Andrew slides in next to him, sling an arm across his waist and rests his head on his chest. Jesse, idly, starts running his fingers through his hair. It’s going to be an absolute mess in the morning. Jesse can’t wait to see it.

\--

Andrew ends up staying in LA longer than Jesse, which suits Jesse just fine. Despite the fact that he’s 100% okay with… what they’re doing, he’s bound to freak out over it at some point. He always does. He’s glad Andrew’s not here to witness the freak out. He’s even more thankful that it’s Emma witnessing it and not Justin, because Justin is kind of horrible at dealing with feelings. Jesse’s learned his lesson on that front.

“Honey, he sounds amazing, why are you freaking out?” Emma asks him, patting his back reassuringly, while Jesse tries to regulate his breathing.

“What if he comes back to New York and decides that it was fun while it lasted? I mean, we only slept together once, okay, twice, the morning after was pretty awesome but anyway, we went out several times and it was great. I really like him,” Jesse says, miserably. They hadn’t been dating per se, but there had been talk about it, romantic strolls through Central Park, horse carriages, all that stuff. Most of it, completely ridiculous but Andrew made it sound fun. Jesse thinks he’d do anything that would make Andrew happy. 

“Have you heard from him since you landed?” Emma asks.

“Yeah, he won’t stop texting me.”

Emma smiles, rests her head against his shoulder. “Then I don’t think you have anything to worry about. In two days time, when he comes back to New York, you’re going to wait for him at the airport and do whatever ridiculous things he seems to have planned for dates.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Yeah, it’s that easy. Now, stop worrying and start finding out if he has hot British friends!”

\--

Jesse does, in fact, go the airport to pick Andrew up. At 5 am in the morning. Because Andrew had sent him a sad face when Jesse had complained about having to leave his bed. It hadn’t even been an emoticon, no, it had been an actual picture of Andrew’s actual face, with an actual sad expression. This was going to become a problem, Jesse could tell.

Jesse’s still sure Andrew is going to change his mind about this whole thing when he catches sight of him. He’s wearing his glasses, with an old cap pulled over his head to restrain the mess of curls and rumpled clothes that he had pulled on, because they were the closest things to him. He probably should have made an effort but it’s really hard to find the energy and strength at _five am_ in the morning. 

Andrew’s face still lights up like a Christmas tree when he spots him, pulling his luggage behind him and waving enthusiastically, way too energetic for the time of morning. The bags under his eyes betray that he hasn’t actually slept. Jesse manages to keep the disapproval of his face and instead decides to make sure Andrew gets in a bed as soon as possible.

Andrew drops the luggage and pulls him in for a hug before Jesse can as much as say ‘hello’.

“I missed you,” Andrew whispers into his hair.

Jesse smiles and holds onto this ridiculous British hipster he managed to snag up a little tighter. “You too. Let’s get out of here, you need sleep.”

“In your bed?” Andrew asks, perking up even more. 

Jesse rolls his eyes. “If you don’t mind cats using your face as a pillow, then you can come sleep with me.” Not quite what he meant to say. What he’d meant to say was _that’s not a good idea, you should go back to your apartment._ Still, the thought of Andrew in his bed sounds a lot more appealing. Now that he’s up, he might as well get something out of it, even if it’s just cuddling. _Especially_ if it’s cuddling.

“Awesome!” Andrew exclaims, because he clearly hasn’t experienced waking up with a mouth full of fur yet. 

Jesse figures it’s probably for the best that he get used to it now. After all, if they’re going to do this, it’s probably going to become something of a regular occurrence.   
  
~Fin

  
  



End file.
